MY DAYS.
21
Sweet bee, blithe swallow, in my heart about
Your fellowship.
The stealthy night came fast.
"O chilly night," I said, "no friend thou hast
For me, and morn is far," when lo! a shout
Of joy, and riding up as one rides late,
My friend fell on my neck just in the gate.
"You got my message then?"
"No message, sweet,
Save my own eyes' desire your eyes to meet."
"You saw no swallow and no bee before
You came?"
"I do remember past my door
There brushed a bird and bee. O, dearer presage
Than I had dreamed! You sent by them a message?"
Your fellowship.
The stealthy night came fast.
"O chilly night," I said, "no friend thou hast
For me, and morn is far," when lo! a shout
Of joy, and riding up as one rides late,
My friend fell on my neck just in the gate.
"You got my message then?"
"No message, sweet,
Save my own eyes' desire your eyes to meet."
"You saw no swallow and no bee before
You came?"
"I do remember past my door
There brushed a bird and bee. O, dearer presage
Than I had dreamed! You sent by them a message?"
MY LIGHTHOUSES.
westward window of a palace gray,Which its own secret still so safely keeps
That no man now its builder's name can say,
I lie and idly sun myself to-day,
Dreaming awake far more than one who sleeps,
Serenely glad, although my gladness weeps.
I look across the harbor's misty blue,
And find and lose that magic shifting line
Where sky one shade less blue meets sea, and through
The air I catch one flush as if it knew
And find and lose that magic shifting line
Where sky one shade less blue meets sea, and through
The air I catch one flush as if it knew
